


How about you walk a mile ...

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e10 Heaven and Hell, Gen, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-11
Updated: 2009-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire





	How about you walk a mile ...

How about you walk a mile …

Uriel thinks that maybe he should have seen this coming, but then again, that wasn’t exactly right. He’d _hoped_ it would come; the day Sam Winchester went one step too far, the day he would be given the go-ahead to turn that half-breed son of Adam back into the dirt he first came from.

He just hadn’t expected it to go quite like this.

Sam smirks darkly. The angel’s palm rests firmly on his forehead, and he slaps it away, taking advantage of Uriel’s confusion. “I keep telling you sick bastards,” Sam hisses, pushing right up into Uriel’s space, “That kind of shit? Doesn’t work on me.”

Something glints deep inside the Winchester boy’s eyes and Uriel steps back involuntarily, feeling his broad shoulders bump up against the wall. Angels aren’t supposed to feel, but righteous anger is holy and just, and Uriel allows it to flow through him now. He draws up to his full height, sneering down at this … abomination daring to defy him.

He has a few inches on Sam, but Sam doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well now it’s my turn, and you’re gonna listen to me.” Sam continues, his voice steady and low, one hand thrown slightly wide and back as if he can protect his sleeping brother with such a simple gesture.

“You think that just because you’re an angel that you can threaten Dean, play mind games with him, offer him to the _Pit_?” He spits the last word forcefully, pure venom dripping from his lips.

“How dare you speak to me at all, you worthless –“

“Shut _up_ ,” Sam bites out, and he makes it a command.

Uriel’s throat closes smoothly, and his eyes widen in alarm. _Treacherous, impertinent_ …

“You want me? Fine, whatever. I’m the _tainted_ one, I’m the _dangerous_ one – I’m the one that carries the curse.” Uriel doesn’t miss the way Sam’s out flung hand trembles, but there is no evidence of fear or doubt in the boy’s eyes. The edges of Sam’s power rustle through the air, uncoiling like the Serpent himself.

“But not Dean, you hear me? Not him. He’s _pure_ , even after _everything_ , he’s pure.” Sam’s jaw grinds, muscles twitching as he gathers his determination. His voice goes whisper quiet and icy cold. “You have no _right_.” Sam accentuates his claim by stepping back and raising his palm. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself to commit high treason.

Uriel stiffens, feels a spark of anticipation run through him, setting his powerful, invisible wings trembling with excitement. The half-breed has put the first nail in his coffin. He’s fully damned now, and there is no going back.

Behind Sam, curled under the covers of the far bed, Dean stirs, restless. The angel watches the pitiful way his fingers twitch, grasping the sweat-soaked sheets around him. What his comrade sees in this broken, damaged excuse for a human being, he has no idea. He wrinkles his nose at the sounds the boy makes, all flinch and no fight. _Like a suffering dog_ , he thinks. _Should just be put out of everyone’s misery._

The grip of Azazel’s filtered power loosens, and Uriel cuts his gaze to Sam. The anticipation swells higher and he flexes his powerful hands, thinking of how it will feel to crush the life from the younger Winchester the old-fashioned way.

But Sam isn’t looking at him anymore, and Uriel’s sharp words die on his tongue.

Sam is gazing at his brother with a look that is equal parts ferocity and despair. His brow is drawn down in worry, and his chest flutters to match the beats of his brother’s gasps. Sam bites his lip, seemingly torn between waking Dean and willing him back to sleep.

It doesn’t take long for concern to win out. Sam turns his back; a mistake that Uriel knows he has made before. The boy sets his shoulders and moves quietly to the bed, setting one large hand softly on Dean’s arm. “Dean,” he calls. “Dean, wake up.”

Dean gasps, stirs restlessly beneath Sam’s careful grip, but doesn’t wake.

It’s like watching a leper try to help a blind man. Disgusting.

Uriel moves closer, feeling his strength build as he goes.

“Dean, shh, I’m here. You’re ok.” Sam croons, running his free hand over Dean’s damp forehead, eyes gentle. Dean blinks, looks up at his brother, dazed.

“Sammy?” He sounds confused, like he doesn’t know where he is.

Uriel steps closer, reaching for Sam. He’s ready, so ready to kill him; to kill both of them.

“Yeah, man, I gotcha.” Sam sighs, still as stone, never letting go.

Dean lets out a slow breath, and his eyes flutter shut.

Uriel lunges, reaching for the demon child.

Sam smiles.

Uriel’s chest heaves like something is in there trying to bust out, and suddenly he’s retching, losing his grip on his host. Sam Winchester’s power is grabbing him, clawing along his true form, _ripping_ him from his body. It feels like knives and fire and ice all at once, and he gasps, desperate for air.

“Don’t worry,” Sam whispers, and Uriel sees with both sets of eyes, double vision, that Sam is still staring at Dean, and he wonders who he’s talking to. But then Sam says, “This isn’t going to _kill_ you,” and he knows.

Uriel can feel the pull of the Pit as he spills out onto the ground, fighting inch for inch until he hovers above the stained motel room carpet, reduced to a floating silver-blue cloud. “I just think,” Sam says, “that maybe it’s time you realized – you aren’t the only one who can send someone to Hell.”

The ground rushes to meet Uriel, and his host falls away. He smells the sulfur and sees it coming up all around him. He hears the screaming of a billion shattered souls.

“I’m sure it won’t be long before you bust out.” Sam says. His tone is smooth, conversational – and there it is again - that burning gleam in his dark hazel eyes. “But I hope you remember it. Because he does. And I hope you feel it, under your skin, _inside_ you, _every_ day, like he does.”

The demon’s child turns to regard him then, looking down on him with raw disgust, and sneers.

“And I hope you remember this, because it’s just a taste of what I’ll do if you ever threaten my brother again.”

Sam raises his hand, palm outward, and shuts his eyes. Breathing deeply, he draws his fingers into a fist.

And that’s the last thing Uriel remembers.


End file.
